


Simple, Simple, Simple Sweet

by overratedantihero



Series: You Don't Own Me (I'm Not One of Your Many Toys) [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Age Inappropriate Relationship, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Big Brother Dick Grayson, Brotherly Affection, Dick is an Omega, Discussion of Dynamics, M/M, Making Out, Non Explicit Sex, Pillow Talk, Scent Marking, a/b/o dynamics, sibling squabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 06:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15679767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overratedantihero/pseuds/overratedantihero
Summary: Dick likes to scent mark. He doesn't understand why Jason doesn't, so Slade explains.





	Simple, Simple, Simple Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Well. Looks like this might be a series. I'm enjoying the world building in this more than I thought. Enjoy as Dick fumbles his way through his orientation because he was raised by and is surrounded by emotionally stunted alphas.

“Jesus, Dick!” Jason admonished when he picked up his helmet. He sniffed it and scowled. “Did you have to?”

Dick shrugged from where he was laid up on the couch, head resting on Damian’s thigh while Damian read. Damian used to flinch away from Dick when he made casual, affectionate contact, but partnership as Dick’s Robin and years in the Manor desensitized him to Dick’s habits. Damian’s tolerance was beyond Jason, especially when Bruce’s scent was _everywhere_.   

“Maybe,” Dick offered, “if you weren’t such a stranger to the Manor, your helmet wouldn’t smell so foreign, and I wouldn’t have to rub my face on it.” 

“Maybe,” Jason retorted through a tight grin that didn’t reach his eyes, “if you didn’t rub your face on my shit, I would come around more.”

Dick frowned, and Damian shot Jason a glare.

“Alright, I’ll stop touching your things,” Dick said, even as Damian opened his mouth to snap something nasty. Dick sat up and Damian closed his mouth with an audible click of his teeth. Although Dick didn’t see Damian’s furrowed brows and kicked-puppy look, Jason did. You’d have thought Dick was the kid’s mother with how responsive Damian was to Dick’s flighty attention. “Are you leaving?”

Jason looked up at the ceiling. “Yes, Goldie. I’m leaving.” He lowered his gaze to meet Dick’s. Dick bit his lip. He fidgeted. He wasn’t going to ask, and Jason could see it eating him up. Finally, unable to bear both Dick’s upset and Damian’s derision, Jason sighed.

“C’mere,” he offered, holding out an arm. Dick rolled off the couch and strode over, hugging Jason (and rubbing his face into Jason’s jacket, which meant that it would smell like him for days if Jason didn’t wash it, and Roy would tease him, and this was why Jason _hated_ visiting the Manor. Dick always acted as if he weren’t ever coming back.)

Dick pulled away before Jason had to ask, for which Jason was silently grateful.

“You’d be real fucking pissed if I scent marked you all of the time,” Jason griped, unable to help himself. Dick smirked and crossed his arms. Damian set aside his book, watching them with growing interest.  

“No, I wouldn’t. Because you scent marked _everything_ when you were Robin. Your room, the Batombile’s interior, Bruce’s cape, once. Punchy, pubescent alpha that you were.”

Jason’s face flushed, so he swiveled on his heels and stormed out to hide it. On his way out, he shouted back, “I was 15, you _dick_!”

“Low blow, Grayson,” Damian murmured, picking his book back up again. “I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be,” Dick said, still watching the freshly empty threshold. “I miss it. I wish he wouldn’t wear scent blockers here, it’s his home too.”

“Speaking of which,” Damian said, nonchalantly, without looking up from his book, “are you staying for dinner?”

Dick opened his mouth, but then his phone went off, blaring the chorus to “Bad Company” by Five Finger Death Punch. Dick froze. Damian’s eyes flicked up.

“Are you going to answer that, Grayson?”

Dick opened his mouth and then closed it. The chorus continued. Damian’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t recognize that ringtone. Who is it for?”

Dick blinked. “Roy.”

Damian slammed his book shut. “Harper’s ringtone is “Arrow,” don’t lie to me, Grayson.” The phone fell silent.

Dick winced. “Midnighter?”

“’We Will Rock You,’” Damian shot back.

“Jesus, Dami, why do you know all of this?” Dick shot back as he backed out of the room. “I’ve got to go, I’ll see you for dinner, okay?” Dick didn’t wait for an answer, he swiveled on his heels and retreated from the room.

“I wasn’t born yesterday!” Damian called after him. Dick left so fast, he nearly ran into Tim. After narrowly avoiding the collision, Tim leaned against the doorframe and watched Dick jog off, sipping from his coffee mug.

“You were _almost_ born yesterday,” he offered to Damian. “You were born at most two days ago.”

Damian threw his book at Tim’s head.

 “Don’t call me,” Dick admonished Slade as he entered his Gotham safehouse. He put his keys in a bowl next to the door and then immediately wrapped his arms around Slade’s neck, rubbing his cheek against Slade’s. Slade reached around him to lock the front door before pushing Dick’s against it.

“Don’t give everyone in your contacts distinctive ringtones,” Slade shot back, hands sliding under Dick’s shirt. “Caller ID is enough, little bird.”

Dick’s nose brushed near Slade’s scent gland, right behind his ear, and Dick hummed. “You never scent mark me,” he whined, nipping Slade’s ear.

“No reason to,” Slade murmured. “I don’t own you, kid.”

Dick pulled back, at least as much as he could when pressed back against a door. He furrowed his brows at Slade, even as he undid the buttons on Slade’s shirt.

“Scent marking isn’t about _ownership_. It’s familiarity, it’s affection,” Dick murmured, punctuating himself by placing a gentle kiss on the tip of Slade’s nose. Slade rolled his eye and Dick frowned.

“Maybe. For an omega.” Slade leaned in for a kiss, but Dick jerked back so roughly his head knocked against the door.

“ _Kid_ ,” Slade admonished, sliding his hand behind Dick’s head. Dick glared daggers at him.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean,” he snapped. Slade blinked.

“Omegas scent mark differently than alphas. Grayson, you should know this,” Slade said, leaning forward for a kiss. Dick wiggled, mouth closed in a tight line. Slade pulled back with a sigh. “What?”

“How do alphas scent mark, then?” Dick blurted, rolling a button between his fingers. “Because Jason _hates_ it when I do it. And I always thought it was because he has trouble with family and affection, but if it means something _different_ ….” Dick bit his lip and Slade laughed. Dick frowned and parted his mouth, clearly offended.

Slade hesitated, looked at Dick for a moment, and then sighed. He took a step back, allowed Dick to stand on his own. “It’s territorial, Dick. It marks ownership. Your excessive scent marking is quaint, but if an alpha were to do the same it would be aggressive. Bruce should have explained this to you.”

Dick shrugged, his expression smoothing. “That explains a lot,” he murmured, undoing the last button. Slade shrugged the shirt off and let it fall to the floor.

“I’m glad I could shed some clarity,” Slade said, dryly. He wrapped an arm around Dick and hoisted him up. Dick obligingly wrapped his legs around Slade’s waist. Slade kissed him, roughly, and Dick dug his nails into Slade’s back.

When they separated, Dick breathless and Slade unaffected except for the hungry look in eye, Dick murmured, “You can, you know. If you want.” Slade quirked his eyebrows, and Dick clarified, “Scent mark me.”

Slade nipped his jaw. “Kid, I told you—”

“I know,” Dick sighed, leaning his head back to expose the column of his throat. Slade’s lips brushed Dick’s skin there, but that was all. Dick rolled his hips against Slade and added, “But I like aggressive.”

Slade’s grip around Dick’s waist tightened while Slade sunk his teeth into Dick’s neck. Dick yelped, but Slade pulled back and flicked his tongue against the surfacing bruise.

“Just remember what you asked for,” Slade warned before carrying Dick to the bedroom.

Later, when his sticky legs were entangled with Slade’s and his face was pressed against the thin skin of Slade’s wrist, Dick murmured, “I think the company I keep is patronizing me."

Slade grunted, eye closed. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Dick hummed and nuzzled Slade’s wrist. “The family’s having dinner tonight. I was going to cancel, but I think I’ll go.”

Slade cracked open his eye. “You might want to hop in the shower then, pretty bird.”

Sucking his teeth, Dick released Slade’s wrist. Slade grunted his displeasure, but then Dick crawled on top of him, straddling Slade’s waist, hands on either side of Slade’s head. “Y’know,” Dick murmured, looking down at Slade while Slade’s hands brushed up his thighs, “I just don’t think I’ll have the time.”

 

Feel free to send suggestions for this AU to my [Tumblr](https://overratedantihero.tumblr.com/)! 


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